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Dad bought a 1972 Winnebago Brave to continue our family camping expeditions after our tent got run over by a 'nader at Lake Pawnee west of Lincoln in 1971. Dad was desperately trying to hold onto the tent as the storm blew our tent - with the rest of the family still inside it - into the edge of the lake. Dad holding onto that tent pulled all of his ribs apart from each other as the tent filled with air and water seemingly all at once. He was a hurting unit for at least six months after that.

I was asleep in the tent when the deluge of water went through it. Our dog Lucky, a German Shepherd panicked and jumped onto my face, which had the net effect of putting my head under the water. I did the only thing I could think of at the time which was to bite that bitch in her belly as hard as I could. She yelped, jumped up, and I used the space to get my arms up to pull the sleeping bag zipper down and freed myself.

We all fled to the safety of the 1970 Ford Galaxy 500, and weathered the storm in the car. When we woke up in the morning, we glanced outside to witness that the 'nader had dropped the remains of a massive cottonwood tree about 6 feet to the left of the driver's side door. Just missed getting smashed to smithereens from that thing.

I'm not sure the camper would have fared any better in that storm, but my Dad simply decided that tent camping was in the rear view mirror after that night. We used the shit out of that thing in the summers, camping damn near every weekend. The folks always made sure my sister and I brought a friend along, and those weekends helped keep us out of mischief in the neighborhood. I also got pretty fucking good at slalom water skiing. Once fall came, the Winnebago was a fixture at Husker home game tailgates well into the late 80's when Dad finally parted with the camper.
 
Dad bought a 1972 Winnebago Brave to continue our family camping expeditions after our tent got run over by a 'nader at Lake Pawnee west of Lincoln in 1971. Dad was desperately trying to hold onto the tent as the storm blew our tent - with the rest of the family still inside it - into the edge of the lake. Dad holding onto that tent pulled all of his ribs apart from each other as the tent filled with air and water seemingly all at once. He was a hurting unit for at least six months after that.

I was asleep in the tent when the deluge of water went through it. Our dog Lucky, a German Shepherd panicked and jumped onto my face, which had the net effect of putting my head under the water. I did the only thing I could think of at the time which was to bite that bitch in her belly as hard as I could. She yelped, jumped up, and I used the space to get my arms up to pull the sleeping bag zipper down and freed myself.

We all fled to the safety of the 1970 Ford Galaxy 500, and weathered the storm in the car. When we woke up in the morning, we glanced outside to witness that the 'nader had dropped the remains of a massive cottonwood tree about 6 feet to the left of the driver's side door. Just missed getting smashed to smithereens from that thing.

I'm not sure the camper would have fared any better in that storm, but my Dad simply decided that tent camping was in the rear view mirror after that night. We used the shit out of that thing in the summers, camping damn near every weekend. The folks always made sure my sister and I brought a friend along, and those weekends helped keep us out of mischief in the neighborhood. I also got pretty fucking good at slalom water skiing. Once fall came, the Winnebago was a fixture at Husker home game tailgates well into the late 80's when Dad finally parted with the camper.
Great story man! I can't imagine how helpless it would feel to watch a tent full of your family being blown around!
 


Point Nemo, located in the South Pacific Ocean, is often called the oceanic "pole of inaccessibility." It's the farthest point from any land, making it one of the most remote places on Earth. At this spot, you're closer to the astronauts orbiting Earth on the International Space Station (ISS), about 400 km (250 miles) above, than to any other human being on land. The closest inhabited land masses are over 2,600 km (1,600 miles) away
 

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